When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" - but then you'd relent, and roll me over for a bellyrub.

My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs," you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" - still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love."

As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch - because your touch was now so infrequent - and I would have defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.

Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life.

You gave me a goodbye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?"

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you - that you had changed your mind - that this was all a bad dream...or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.

I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief.

The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.

She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"

Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself - a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her. It was you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.
The End

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Rescued Dog

Once I was a lonely dog, Just looking for a home.
I had no place to go, No one to call my own.
I wandered up and down the streets, in rain in heat and snow.
I ate whatever I could find, I was always on the go.
My skin would itch, my feet were sore, My body ached with pain.
And no one stopped to give a pat Or to gently say my name.
I never saw a loving glance, I was always on the run.
For people thought that hurting me was really lots of fun.
And then one day I heard a voice So gentle, kind and sweet,
And arms so soft reached down to me And took me off my feet.
"No one again will hurt you Was whispered in my ear."
"You'll have a home to call your own where you will know no fear."
"You will be dry, you will be warm, you'll have enough to eat."
"And rest assured that when you sleep, your dreams will all be sweet."
I was afraid I must admit, I've lived so long in fear.
I can't remember when I let A human come so near.
And as she tended to my wounds And bathed and brushed my fur
She told me about the rescue group And what it meant to her.
She said, "We are a circle, A line that never ends."
"And in the center there is you protected by new friends."
"And all around you are the ones that check the pounds,
And those that share their home after you've been found."
"And all the other folk are searching near and far.
"To find the perfect home for you, where you can be a star."
She said, "There is a family, that's waiting patiently,
and pretty soon we'll find them, just you wait and see."
"And then they'll join our circle they'll help to make it grow,
so there'll be room for more like you, who have no place to go."
I waited very patiently, The days they came and went.
Today's the day I thought, my family will be sent.
Then just when I began to think It wasn't meant to be,
there were people standing there just gazing down at me.
I knew them in a heartbeat, I could tell they felt it too. Now every night I say a prayer to all the gods that be.
"Thank you for the life I live and all you've given me.
But most of all protect the dogs in the pound and on the street.
And send a Rescue Person to lift them off their feet."

Arlene Pace
September 18, 1998

---------------------------------------------

Thoughts Of A Stray...

Another morning...I stretch my tired body. It was cold and rainy last night. But at least that pine tree gave me a little protection. Still nothing to eat. Let me try a little grass. So many puddles after the rain. I wish the water weren't so muddy. I wish I had a bowl again, like I did back home. It seems so long ago. I wonder why they threw me out? I must find some food. Hope that man doesn't chase me away from the dumpster again.

Why does he care if I take what he throws out? I'll walk a little further today. Maybe I can find a quieter place to rest tonight. It's so noisy by the roadside. Oh, here comes someone walking their dog! Maybe they'll let me follow. NO!!! They're crossing the sreet! Wait for me! Wait for me! It's early yet, but I'm so tired. I think I'll try to sleep. So tired. So hungry. So lonely.

"Hey, mom, under that tree! Looks like a dog!," the little boy said. " Honey, it looks like this one didn't make it," the mother said. "poor guy, he couldn't have been more than six months old." --Author Unknown

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Prayer of a Stray

Great Master please send me somebody who'll care, I'm tired of running, I'm sick with dispair. My body is aching, it's so racked with pain, And Great Master I pray as I run in the rain, That someone will love me and give me a home, A warm cozy bed and a big juicy bone.

My last owner tied me all day in the yard, sometimes with no water and that was so hard! So I chewed through my leash and I ran away, to rummage in garbage; and live as a stray. But now Great Master I'm tired, hungry and cold, And I'm so afraid I'll never grow old.

They've chased me with sticks, hit me with stones, While I run in the streets just looking for bones. I'm not really bad; please help if you can For I have become just another "victim of man"! I'm wormy, Great master , and ridden with fleas, All I ever wanted was a owner to please.

If you find one for me, I'll try to be good I won't chew their shoes, and I'll do as I should. I'll love them, protect them, and try to obey when they tell me sit, to lie down or to stay! I don't think I'll make it too long on my own, Cause I'm getting so weak; and I'm, oh so alone.

Each night as I sleep in the bushes I cry, Cause I'm so afraid that I'm, gonna die. I've got so much love and devotion to give, That I should be given a new chance to live. So Great Master please, answer my prayer and send me to somebody who will really care...
--Author Unknown

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NOTE: The following article "Puppy Mill Report" is being published on this web site by permission of the author who responded to our request saying "Absolutely! This is incredible, though. This story was written in November, 2000, right before Thanksgiving. It has been around the world and back it seems since then. I thought it had finally died a slow and natural death, and now I find it is circulating again! Amazing!   ......... Use it with my blessings, and with my desire that it do some good in combating the evils of puppy mills!  Bless you!  Toni Webb"

A REPORT FROM A PUPPYMILL AUCTION

"I do not believe I will ever look at the world in the same way again. This weekend was worse than I had imagined, worse than I
had even been told to expect. I attended my first puppy mill auction in Missouri Sunday, determined to bring home every last
Cavalier on the auction block. Lucky Star was successful. We got all six Cavaliers being sold. Hoorah!

But that was only 6 dogs out of 200+. I wanted them all. I wanted to run, ranting like a mad woman through the dirt isles of stacked cages, a screaming pied piper, opening and releasing every last one of those imprisoned souls. What I saw behind those latched doors broke my heart, and made it almost impossible to maintain my equilibrium or my sanity, much less the undercover role I was expected to play. Every 15-20 minutes my husband was at my side, asking if I was okay, telling me I could do this, HAD to do this, for the dogs. For the dogs....

Periodically, I had to escape the nasty atmosphere of the barn for a gulp of the cold Missouri air, hoping the frigid gusts would calm and fortify me.

Some cages held one-eyed dogs, others held dogs with recent cuts, and old, ugly scars, dogs with toenails an inch long, dogs whose hair was one large mat, pregnant bitches close to delivery, dogs missing ears, legs, teeth. There were no wagging tails, no yelps of delight; no bright, trusting eyes or barks of playful banter. Most cowered in the farthest corners of their cages, two or more huddled close together, as if their closeness would bring them some measure of comfort in dealing with their shared misery. Dog after dog was auctioned to the highest bidder, often with such sales pitches as: "Missing an eye, but sees well enough to hit his mark": "This girl is only a year old, but she has earned her keep by already producing one litter - now she's got another on the way - a bonus for you"; "This bitch has had 19 pups in a year and a half - just the kind you want"; "If you just sell one of this pregnant bitch's puppies, you will make more than you've paid for her"; "Bitch only has three legs - big deal, she won't be passing that on." And on one male dog, who refused to stand on the table because of an injured foot, the auctioneer remarked, "Don't let that bother you, he can still get it on."

Dogs were often held high in the air for all to see, tails lifted to gauge whether they were in heat, mouths probed roughly to check their bites, and abdomens poked and prodded to check for pregnancy because "this one's been running with Jax - could give you a surprise."

The Cavaliers were one of the last breed on the block. My heart stopped, and my eyes welled when I saw the first, and only two females brought to the table. Their eyes remained downcast, their tails tucked, their bodies postured with fear. "Look at the coats on these beauties," the creepy auctioneer said. "These ladies have produced some gorgeous pups." That sealed it -- I wasn't leaving that place until I had every single cavalier in my possession.

Our babies brought the highest and liveliest bidding, with  bidding often reaching feverish levels, the bids coming so fast and furious, I was afraid I could not keep up. I hated bidding; I hated NOT bidding.

When I got the highest bid, the auctioneer said, "Which one do you want?" "I want them both," I replied. "Great," he said, "You're saving me time, little lady." When we got the final bid on the puppies, the last to be auctioned, I breathed a sigh of relief, and said a quiet thank-you to the man upstairs.

While waiting in line to get the dogs, one man approached us, and asked how many of "those Charlies" we had. I said I only had three. "Well," was his response, "you are certainly in business now." Yes, I told him, you better believe it.

Rescuing just a few is worth the effort, worth the heartache, and worth the dirt, stench and barren, desolate miles my husband and I endured. Six are safe, but so many more are not. Rescuing from these sleazy breeders is a necessary evil. It is only a drop in the bucket, I know, but it is SOMETHING. It certainly is not enough, and we must work diligently to try and  save them all.

A number of people I talked to before leaving on this trip knew nothing about puppy mills. They know about them NOW. Educate. Please educate. Tell everyone you know, and people you don't know, what puppy mills are all about. Relate my horror story, and the stories of other rescuers. We CANNOT shut down the puppy millers without the education of the public.

Before I sign off, let me tell you about MY bonus. I came home with seven puppy mill dogs, my seventh being a male, 2 year old Lhasa Apso. He was placed on the table and the auctioneer opened the bids at $150. No bids came. Down to $50, still no bids. At $25, the auctioneer said, "Come on, folks, he's worked his tail off in his short life - been one busy little guy. Worth a heck of a lot more than $25. If you don't want him, I'll put him back to work for me." At $15, my husband saw the sadness in my eyes. "Toni," he said...too late.

The auctioneer said, "Well, do I hear $10?" My hand shot up before I could stop it. "Sold, to the little lady for $10." "Got yourself quite a bargain," was the auctioneer's parting shot.

The Cavs hadn't even come up yet, and I knew we had a long way to go. "Sorry," I told Chris. "I couldn't help it." "It's okay," he said. "By my calculations, using the luggage rack on top, we could probably haul back another 20 or so." He was joking, of course, he simply understood that this business was deplorable, and resigning these dogs to a pitiful existence was heart wrenching.

Find it in your heart to get involved with rescue, in whatever way you can. Attend an auction, donate your money, foster a rescue, or just encourage and advise those of us who are just getting our feet wet. You won't be sorry. Your heart may break, your eyes may be red-rimmed for days, but I promise you, you will be forever changed." -- Toni Webb, The3Cavaliers@aol.com

If you worry that you have not made a difference, you have,
for only those who do not worry about it have not.
If you feel overwhelmed, if the weight of problems is too heavy to bear,
remember it is a shared burden
and the strength of numbers can accomplish much.

If you think society and government are blind,
it only serves to remind that we need to change
one mind at a time, one law after another.
We effect change by cooperation, not by isolation.
If you consider that we cannot save them all,
and what difference does one make?,
you ought to know the joy of the one who is saved.
Mourn those we cannot save, it is a eulogy to their being.
Do not let their loss be in vain.

Be kind to yourself, remember your needs
and those of your family and friends of every species. Strive to be happy and healthy. You are needed.
Achieving balance in life is a lifelong struggle.
We who help those who do not have all that they need
should be among the most grateful for what we have.

Be proud of your accomplishments, not your opinions.
The quality of your efforts is more important than the quantity.
Forgive your own deficiencies - sometimes your caring is sufficient.
Everyone can do something, it is up to you to do the thing you can.
A kind word and a gentle touch can change a life.

If anger wells up within you, because people are the problem,
remember your humanity and that people are also the solution.
Concentrate on specific needs, pay attention to the individual -
they make up the whole.
See beyond the unlovable, the unattractive,
the impure and the wounded -
see that their spirit is as deserving as the rest. Help them heal.
Their eyes are windows to their soul
and the mirror of your sincerity.

All species, all beings, share this Earth in a chain of life.
Care more about what makes us alike than what separates us.
Policies, rules and regulations are not infallible.
Apply them judiciously, interpret them wisely.
No decision based purely on money is ever the right one.

Listen to your heart. Sometimes we have to do that which
we are most afraid of.
Be true to yourself and your beliefs.
Family may abandon you,
friends may disappoint you, strangers will ridicule you.
People shun what they do not understand.
Help them to understand - kindly, softly, gently.

Those who do not respect all life are to be pitied.
Often the wrongdoer is as in need of help as his victims.
Forgive, then teach by example.
Educate yourself or you cannot hope to teach others.
No action based in hatred is ever right
and anger drowns out wisdom.

Yours may be a voice crying in the wilderness,
make it a voice to be respected.
Listen more than you talk, be courteous and reliable.
Learn to ask for help. Never waiver from the truth.
Know that it takes a lot of strength to cry
And with every defeat, we learn.

All Creation celebrates that which is in its own best interest.
The Children are our hope - nurture them.
Nature is our legacy - protect it.
The Animals are our brethren - learn from them.

Your rewards will not be material, but they will be meaningful,
and the courage of your convictions can survive anything.
We are small boats cast adrift on a cruel sea,
but someday the tide will turn toward a safe harbor.
No matter how dark the storm clouds,
or deep the pain of heartbreak - never forget:
We are their heroes.
Copyright © Jim Willis 2001, all rights reserved

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So this is where we part, My Friend, and you'll run on, around the bend, gone from sight, but not from mind, new pleasures there you'll surely find.

I will go on, I'll find the strength, life measures quality, not its length. One long embrace before you leave, share one last look, before I grieve.

There are others, that much is true, but they be they, and they aren't you. And I, fair, impartial, or so I thought, will remember well all you've taught.

Your place I'll hold, you will be missed, the fur I stroked, the nose I kissed. And as you journey to your final rest, take with you this...I loved you best
Copyright © Jim Willis 2002, all rights reserved

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I see little souls wearing fur,
souls who bark and souls who purr....
Born unwanted and unloved,
I see all this and more from above....
I watch them suffer, I see them cry,
I see them lost, I watch them die....
I see unwanted thousands born....
and when they die...nobody mourns....
These are castaways who will never see love or security....
A few short months they starve and roam,
Or caged in shelters--nobody takes home....
We cry, we feel, we love....
Our presence now only known from God above....
My pain and suffering came to an end,
so don't cry for me, my person, my friend....
The living ones need you now....
Please stop their abuse somehow.

-Auther Unknown-